Blast from the Past
by CurriculumVitae
Summary: Mary and John ask the impossible for Sherlock. Babysitting their daughter Darcy. But when Darcy starts to cry and Sherlock begins to panic, he calls the one person who matters most. Molly Hooper. But is she all that she appears to be? Sherlolly Teen!Lock.


"Sherlock, you will be fine." John reassured Sherlock who was shaking his head.

"No, no I won't. I was not made for babysitting. Do I seem like a babysitting person?"

"It's just for one night. It won't be that hard." John lied. Taking care of a baby seemed to be the most impossible thing for Sherlock to be capable of but he was the only person available (that they trusted anyway).

Sherlock frowned, "You're lying."

"No I'm not." John denied

"You are," Sherlock replied annoyed,"You using your lying face."

"What lying face?"

"The face you're pulling right now."

"It's true John," Mary interjected, "You do have a face you put on when you're lying."

* * *

"Okay, so the bottles are in the fridge, I prepared them just before you came, so they'll be safe to use, and the nappies are –"Mary began to explain

"Yes Mary, he knows," John interrupted, "It's the fifth time you've told him."

"But-" "No buts Mrs Watson, the cab is already here and the driver is getting impatient." John replied firmly. Mary looked at her baby asleep in the cot and calculated how long it would be until Sherlock would call them to come back. Not too long then, she'll be fine she thought.

"I'll be okay…I think."Sherlock added.

Mary sighed, "I don't know. It's Darcy I'm worried about."

John put his hand on Mary's shoulder, "Our baby girl will be fine," he said, looking at Sherlock, hinting for him to agree with him.

"Of course, she'll be fine. Anyway, first time leaving your baby is the hardest part." Sherlock replied, "Apparently," he added. A beep come from outside,

"Come on Mary, we need to go now." John said gently steering Mary out of the flat. As the cab drove away, only then did it hit Sherlock. Why the hell did Mary and John manage to convince him to take care of an infant? He turned to look at the sleeping baby in John and Mary's bedroom.

"It'll be fine," Sherlock told himself, "She's asleep." He looked at the clock, 8.30 pm "Only twelve hours to go, I'm sure they'll be back early tomorrow morning."

* * *

One hour later…

Just as Sherlock sat down to read 'Murder on the Orient Express' (he loved reading crime novels, it entertained him to figure out who the killer was long before the book finished) a crying noise broke the silence. "Bugger," he muttered. He placed the book down and went over to Darcy's cot picked her up. "What this fuss about?" He asked her as she wailed in his arms. Suddenly, a wave of panic washed over him, _Oh my god, what there's something wrong with her? I don't know what to do with a baby? How should I know? I can't call John and Mary; otherwise it'll ruin their first night away from Darcy, he thought worriedly, What if she's ill? What the hell do I do? I can't look after a baby by myself._ He walked into the kitchen and placed Darcy in her high chair before whipping his mobile out of his pocket and without thinking, he dialled Molly's number.

"Hi Sherlock, what you need?" Molly asked as soon as she picked up

"It's kind of important-"

"I've just left the lab so don't bother asking for body parts, it's a Friday and I'm tired." She paused, "Is that a baby crying?"

"Uh, yes it is. Please can you help me? I have no idea what to do." Sherlock replied desperately.

Molly grabbed her coat, "I'm coming right now. Where are you?"

* * *

Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently, Hurry up Molly he thought annoyed. Darcy was still crying when Molly knocked on the door. "Thank you so much." Sherlock said gratefully.

"You're welcome, where's Darcy?" Molly demanded pushing past Sherlock

"In there," Sherlock replied pointing to the kitchen.

"Hello Darcy," Molly cooed to the wailing child, "What's nasty Uncle Sherlock done to you?"

"What?!" Sherlock protested, "I haven't done anything."

Molly picked up Darcy and turned to look at Sherlock, "That's exactly why she's crying. Where's the bottle?"

"It's in the fridge."

"Well don't just stand there looking like an idiot, go get it." Molly instructed him, holding Darcy closed to her making shushing noises, "It's okay, don't cry, you'll have the milk soon." Sherlock held out the bottle to her, "Hey, I'm not doing everything for you, you need to learn." Molly told Sherlock, "Put some warm water in a bowl and then put the bottle in it."

"Can I take it out now?" Sherlock asked Molly after a few minutes. Molly had managed to calm down Darcy, who was still grizzling.

"Is it room temperature?"

"How should I know?"

"Put a drop on your wrist and see how hot it is." Molly told him, "Is it too hot or cold?"

"No, it seems about right." Sherlock replied

"Good, now give it here. I think Darcy's waited long enough." Sherlock passed her the bottle and watched as Molly feed Darcy in interest.

"Can I feed her?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Sure. Be careful though." Molly handed him Darcy carefully and then gave him the bottle when Darcy was safely in his arms. Molly smiled at the sight of Sherlock holding a baby, _I think he has the potential to be a dad,_ she thought. Over the next couple of hours, Molly taught Sherlock the basics of looking after an infant.

"Thanks for helping me out. I didn't want to ruin John and Mary's night out." Sherlock said, "They'd be very pissed off."

Molly smiled, "Fair enough," She glanced at Darcy in her arms who was looking back at her with wide eyes. "How old is she?"

"five months I think."

"She's beautiful," Molly smiled at the six month old child who was starting to fall asleep. "I'll put her in her cot." She said as she left to go to John and Mary's bedroom. Sherlock sat down on the sofa and picked up his book. He was only a few pages in when he heard Molly quietly singing.

"Over in Killarney,

Many years ago,

My mother sang a song to me

In tones so sweet and low;

Just a simple little ditty,

In her good old Irish way,

And I'd give the world to hear her sing

That song of hers today.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now don't you cry!

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."

Sherlock swore he knew that voice from somewhere years ago.

* * *

Wotcha think?


End file.
